


(I'm not a man of substance, and so I'll pretend) To be a wanderer, wondering

by Ithekay



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Betaed, Blue - Freeform, Blue should be a tag, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Just Blue, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, make blue a tag please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithekay/pseuds/Ithekay
Summary: Blue.Blue stained his hands, the insides of his pockets, the insides of his mind. Ground petals turned into paste, powdered tiny shards of lapis crystals from the mines deep underneath, they all had the same effect.Ghostbur remembered finding the flower forest quite a distance away from L’Manberg. He was mostly done with the construction of L’Manberg, the stilted wooden platform that stood over the ruins of the nation, a ruin that he, or at least, Alivebur had caused.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	(I'm not a man of substance, and so I'll pretend) To be a wanderer, wondering

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Since I saw Vienna by Wilbur Soot.

Blue. 

Blue stained his hands, the insides of his pockets, the insides of his mind. Ground petals turned into paste, powdered tiny shards of lapis crystals from the mines deep underneath, they all had the same effect. 

Ghostbur remembered finding the flower forest quite a distance away from L’Manberg. He was mostly done with the construction of L’Manberg, the stilted wooden platform that stood over the ruins of the nation, a ruin that he, or at least,  _ Alivebur _ had caused. He knew that he should probably finish up the construction before taking a break, there was just a few hours work left to go, but it was already morning. 

Morning meant that people were around L’Manberg as they travelled from their humble homes to elsewhere in search of adventures and resources. Morning meant that people would see him out in the open, it meant that they might cast sneers and glares at him, even if he was doing nothing. Morning brought the possibility of confrontation, as they asked him if he could remember a certain event, Tommy might even ask him for advice- and he didn’t want to see their crestfallen faces when he couldn’t reply.

Frankly, he was tired of seeing people, even with his optimistic attitude, there was always an undercurrent of resentment or hopefulness, that he couldn’t live  _ (did it count as living if he was dead?) _ up to. It was exhausting and after days of those conversations he started hiding in his sewers to read during the day, but the stale, humid air that he didn’t really need to breathe eventually became too much. He needed a break from all of the sadness that came with being in L’Manberg, from being in the tiny enclosed space of his sewers and the warm orange light that tired his eyes and blended into the yellowed pages of the books he saved.

So he wandered away, letting the chirping of the birds carry him to the wilderness. After the large clearing was a thick birch forest that eventually opened up to a picture-esque flower field clearing, untouched by anyone on the server. He noted the lilacs and rose bushes, the multi-coloured abundance of tulips that were separated by tall grass and ferns that grew in between. However, what caught his attention was the paper-thin petals of the cornflower, which were almost see-through. 

Back in L’Manberg, the cornflowers were of a richer shade, leaning more towards a royal blue. They came in deep hues and stood out amongst the yellowish shades of grass, but here, here the grass was a vibrant, healthy green, the flower petals were young and seemed to glow in the sunlight. 

There was a certain fragility that came to the lushness of it though, entranced, Ghostbur knelt down to cup it’s petals, noting that the pristine clear colour seemed to fog up upon contact. He supposed it was just his grey fingertips under the petals, but the colour started spreading outwards, it’s translucent petals darkening until a shadow was cast on his hand. The change in hue fascinated him, it was like watercolour on a canvas, the material soaking and spreading it outwards. 

Strangely, his worries alleviated too. The constant hum of worries and anxieties were always pushed into the back of his mind to be ignored so that he could keep up his optimism had faded away into obscurity. There was no weight to the burden of knowing what Alivebur did, no sombre reminder of the people he disappointed daily, no bittersweet memories of a long-gone time- it was quiet for once. 

There was no lump in his throat that made his wobbly voice all the more apparent, no underlying tremor of uncertainty, no voice cracks that came whenever he spoke. How he knew this when he hadn’t even voiced a single sound was unknown to him, but he just  _ knew _ somehow. 

His fingers itched to pluck and strum the favourite guitar they had left behind in L’Manberg, it must have blown up during the festival, but oddly, there was no sadness or grief at the thought. He remembered when he used to compose songs for his family’s ears to hear as they huddled about the campfire or the living room. He remembered those melancholic tunes he played on rainy nights, they stuck with him all the while, a sort of company to his thoughts. 

He wanted to play the songs that he had written, that others had written- he doesn’t remember touching a guitar ever since he finished the anthem. He wondered if he did play it later on, after his exile, the haunting melodies that would have bounced off the stone walls of the ravine. If he thought hard enough, he could remember vague impressions of Pogtopia, it’s defining feature the many buttons that lined the walls, if he tried harder, he might even hear the rare moments in between when Alivebur, Techno and Tommy had gotten along.

For once, he was free from his thoughts, from the burden of ever-present sadness that never seemed to leave him. For once, he wanted to spin around,  _ dance, _ to express his joy at the new discovery. For once since his short existence as a ghost, did he want to truly celebrate this small achievement, for the small wonder that was this temporary euphoria that shot through his veins, giving him newfound energy and lightness.

_ It’s the blue _ , he realised. The petals of the cornflower had turned periwinkle to azure, it had absorbed his sadness, taken it all away. He looked at the flower with a new appreciation, not only for its colours, but it's wondrous effects it had bestowed upon him as well. He pranced and skipped about the clearing, free of the shackles of guilt and obligation, of a responsibility he brought upon himself. 

Time had flown by in the flower field, by the time he thought to stop, the idyllic scene had been painted by a golden glow, pinks and soft reds could also be seen reflected in the crystalline white flower petals. He’d miss the flower forest, L’Manberg could never quite catch up to nature’s natural beauty, even if it was profound in its own ways. 

Childishly, Ghostbur waved the clearing goodbye like he would anyone else. He wanted to bring back a small memento so that he wouldn’t forget, even though logically he knew he wouldn’t forget a memory as happy as this one, a memento would have soothed a small worry. He thought of the flower bookmarks Phil taught him how to make as a child, and though the thought of pressing such a delicate beauty felt like a pity, he couldn’t think of much else that he could bring back with him.

He scooped up the whole cornflower, placing it gently in his inventory. The flower bounced back upon the light touch of his finger, practically oozing its vitality and youth. The next time he came here, if ever, he would bring a guitar along with him, maybe he would bring his family along with him too, he shouldn’t reserve such a sight for his alone.

He marked down the coordinates in his notebook he kept alongside him, taking out his compass, he strolled slowly back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading :D Hope you enjoyed the story!!
> 
> Regardless of what the page says, I do have plans for at least... 2 more chapters? But I haven't written them yet, so keep an eye out I guess? Uh I wrote this on a whim and look where I am now ;-; I'mma owe my teachers some work but it's okay this is fine.
> 
> Kudos and Comments would be appreciated :D


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